Sugar Daddy
by Blindgumby
Summary: In which Fontaine decides he's not going to play dirty anymore, at least where Jack is concerned. M for language, possible violence/gore, and sexual content. Fontaine/Jack, eventual Atlas/Jack.
1. Chapter 1

"We've completed the boy," Suchong says, stepping into Fontaine's office without ceremony. "Would you like to see him?"

Fontaine looks up and nods, stacking some nondescript paperwork and standing. "Where is Brigid?" he asks.

"With the child. He is at a stage where he is actually pleasant to look on. That is to say, he's lost the look of a fetus almost entirely. Accelerated growth to two years, and already, the gross musculature of a fit nineteen-year-old. Suchong is very pleased with the results, naturally, but Suchong thought you might want a look before we proceeded with the mental conditioning."

Fontaine scowls, "How considerate of you, doctor."

"Besides, if we're to make him a sleeper, you should choose the trigger phrase soon."

"Yes, I know."

To be honest, and Fontaine always was with himself- even if that wasn't the case with…well, everyone else- he was beginning to have doubts. Screwing over people on his level was one thing, but screwing with a child was entirely something else. The kid could very well grow up to hate Ryan either way, especially considering his recent downward spiral, but Fontaine didn't have that kind of time. It was now or never, make a power move before the constant splicing made everyone insane or watch the city crumble around him, make it out alive with a few precious items and move on with his life topside. It was strange, given his sense of self-preservation, but Fontaine couldn't really justify either option anymore.

They reached Suchong's private home lab and the door swished open. Tenenbaum stood there with a clipboard, asking the boy a series of questions that he answered with brutal and concise efficiency. He was tall for two, looked more like a six-year-old, and yet he was extremely sinewy. A perfect specimen of humanity with the hand of science inserted. Fontaine found him repulsive, and worse, pitied him.

Tenenbaum looks up from her chart and gives Fontaine a lopsided grin- equally repulsive to him- her ridiculous crush bearing its head once again. "Frank," she says "This is the boy."

"Obviously," Fontaine replies, crouching down to look the kid in the eyes. He's inherited his father's eye color, Fontaine notes sourly.

"Hello, papa Fontaine," the boy says, looking at the man from under brown bangs.

Fontaine resists the urge to snap at the kid too, and says, somewhat amicably, "What's your name, kid?"

"We were waiting on you to-" Fontaine raises a hand to stop Tenenbaum, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, sir," The kid says "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

"What would you like it to be, then?"

"Papa Suchong lets me read books to learn new words. And in one book, there's a girl named Jill and a boy named Jack. I quite like the name Jack."

"Well then, Jack it is," Fontaine says, smiling a little at the kid despite himself.

Suchong clears his throat and motions for Fontaine to follow him out into the hall. Fontaine ruffles the kid's hair before following the Asian out. Immediately after the doors close, Suchong hisses, "The child is a top priority to our mission. With all due respect, Mr. Fontaine, you cannot jeopardize this chance at true freedom by familiarizing yourself with the boy. If you become…attached, you may not be able to order him to do it."

"I'm not sure I want to anymore," Fontaine says, glaring when the man's eyes come up to meet his.

"Wh-what?" Suchong sputters "But, sir!"

"Cut the 'sir' shit, Suchong. I don't want to use the kid."

Suchong glares right back, a bony finger coming up to jab Fontaine repeatedly in the ribs, "Now listen here, you fucking manipulative bastard. The hours Suchong has put into this will not go wasted. Either you give me permission to send him topside or I'll do it myself, but one way or another, that grotesque piece of shit will serve a purpose."

"Dr. Suchong!" says a voice to their left. They turn, seeing Dr. Tenenbaum standing before them, her clipboard raised like a weapon "You idiot! Du Hurensohn… The boy heard you! Any mental conditioning we could try would more than likely be ineffective now! You've conducted as many studies as I have. You know that. It isn't like you to let your emotions get the best of you. And now you've ruined everything!"

"Well…Fontaine is equally culpable. He was going soft. What was I to do?"

"Fontaine is the boss! If he doesn't want to do it anymore, we don't do it anymore."

Suchong sighs, exasperated "Fine, but what do we do with the little shit now?"

There is a moment of silence between the three in the hallway, until Fontaine says, quite seriously, "I will take him."

*Du Hurensohn-Son of a bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

**2 Years Later**

"Audio Diary, testing of Lot 92 on Fontaine's boy, hereby known as Jack. Suchong created formula as ace in hole. Stupid Kraut let slip to Fontaine. Fontaine want Suchong to erase most of mental conditioning, save for trigger phrase, 'would you kindly'. This has taken a lot on Suchong's part, a good amount of altering went into formula. If all but specified conditioning isn't broken, there should be no negative side effects." Suchong clicks the stop button on the recorder and sets the audio diary aside as the doors swish apart and he steps into the operating room. Jack sits on the table, looking like a grown man, but dangling his feet nervously. He looks up and smiles when Suchong walks into the room. He's not scared of the elder Asian man, and Suchong finds this endlessly unnerving. He does not smile back as he heads to the table at Jack's side, opening the cabinets, sliding on latex gloves and a mask. He grabs a hypodermic needle and fills it with the yellow fluid of lot 92 before unceremoniously jabbing it into Jack's neck.

Jack looks up at him, still smiling, eyes dilating as the fluid enters his bloodstream.

"Now, boy, Suchong will run a few tests," the doctor said, pressing record again. "First, would you kindly stand?"

As anticipated, the boy stands.

"Would you kindly go stand on the scale?" Suchong says, his tone implying his boredom. He then speaks into the recorder as he fiddles with the numbers. "Height, 190 centimeters. Weight, 75 kilograms. Chronologically, the boy is 4 years old, though dated scientifically, or even just looking at him, he reads closer to 20 years of age. Would you kindly step down?"

"Now then, let's see…Ah yes, the most dangerous test. As established, trigger phrase still successful. Now Suchong must activate Fontaine's own ace in hole." He looks down at Jack, long numbed to the pangs of sympathy he'd felt for the boy in the past four years. As it started, even Suchong could find fault with the manipulation of a child, but when Fontaine came to that conclusion as well, he'd immediately gone to the other extreme. Now the boy was Fontaine's…pet for lack of a better word, Fontaine was constantly demanding tweaks to the boy's makeup, ensuring that he grew up beautiful, and as close to genetically perfect as possible.

He did grow up beautiful, even feeling loved, thanks mostly to Fontaine and the Kraut. It had seemed like a good thing at the time, Fontaine having a heart. But that heart was overcast. He was fiercely and violently protective of the boy, to the point of hiring bodyguards, two of which he'd killed for 'looking at him funny'. And this was no crime Fontaine was exactly guiltless of either. He could put up the front of caring for Jack like a son, and everyone from the boy himself to Tenenbaum could believe it. But Suchong had seen the lust darkening Fontaine's eyes for the boy when he thought no one was looking. The fact that - at least in respect to the multiple physicals Suchong had given the boy – Fontaine had yet to touch the boy despite those feelings made it all the more disgusting in the elder doctor's opinion. Waiting for the mental conditioning to be removed was almost as terribly cheesy as waiting for the wedding night. Had it been Suchong, had Suchong still had the capacity to be attracted to anyone, he would've 'would you kindly'd' the boy in to fucking him several times over. At any rate, he pitied the poor boy for being such an object to everyone, but that pity was heavily tinged with disgust. The child may be four chronological years old, but he was highly intelligent. There was no way he couldn't know of Fontaine's desires.

He narrows his eyes at the boy and mutters "Code Yellow."

After a moment of silence Suchong nods "Lot 92 successful. Previous to ingestion, Code Yellow was meant to activate slow and painful cardiac failure of the subject. Jack is unharmed. Conditioning is undone, all tests are conclusive." He presses stop on the recorder again and watches Jack slide off the cold examination table.

"Thank you, papa Suchong." The boy says, now with the deep voice of a man.

"Thanks are unnecessary," Suchong replies, shaking his head "Fontaine should be thanking Suchong. It was years worth of research that went into the conditioning Suchong has just undone. All the same…," he murmurs, uncomfortable, "Best of luck to you."

Jack nods and leaves without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack is all grown, technically speaking, and there's still so much he doesn't understand- _can't _understand, so long as Fontaine has anything to say about it. He strides through into the house, with the Kraut, smiling and talking animatedly, and Fontaine wants nothing more than to shoot the German bitch, with her hand on the small of Jack's back.

Jack is his, bought and paid for.

And Frank Fontaine doesn't like it when other people touch his things.

She leaves soon enough anyway, pulling Fontaine aside to tell him that most of the mental conditioning has been undone, most importantly Code Yellow. It doesn't matter, really. Suchong was bound to make it reversable just in case.

But Jack is all lithe lines and warm skin wrapped around him the second Tenenbaum walks out the door.

It's only a hug. But to Fontaine it feels filthy and, unsurprisingly, he enjoys the sensation, the throb of lust that courses through his body as Jack nuzzles him and squeezes tight. Affection he is only allowed to show when no one else is around, despite it being gladly reciprocated.

Jack can't be used against him, Jack doesn't even _know _anyone but him, Suchong and the Kraut. If he's seen showing affection to the boy, he could easily be targeted. And that's the last thing Fontaine wants, especially when he hasn't even had a taste of the boy yet.

He can honestly say that it wasn't his intention to raise the boy up into something he desired. He viewed those types of feelings as weakness to begin with. But even now, with the boy's hip pressing into his, the way his arms tighten around Fontaine's neck and he grunts, just slightly as he pulls closer...

Fontaine is coming undone. He wraps his arms around Jack and puts his nose to Jack's neck and breathes him in and oh _god_, he wants.

And he could take it by force if he wanted, but Jack instills a sense of protectiveness that even prevents himself from taking advantage. It would be unforgivable. Instead, he places a chaste and hopefully unnoticed kiss to the juncture of Jack's neck and jaw.

Jack's gasp gives him away. He tightens his hold on Fontaine and whispers, "Again, please."

Fontaine pulls away and looks down at the boy, face red, eyes glazed, already lost and wanting. He'd always suspected Jack had a crush on him, practically worshiped the ground Fontaine walked on from the day he delivered him from Suchong's laboratory. But to imagine he could win the boy over without a fuss, it was terrifying, exciting... he was more used to people putting up a fight.

It feels wrong, but Fontaine spares a glance at the calendar. September 8th, 1958. That means he's running out of time.

That means, if he's gentle, he can finally claim Jack without beating himself up too badly.

"Not here," Fontaine breathes, "Go up to my room, I've got some things to take care of."

"One kiss before I go?" Jack asks, batting his lashes. Fontaine relents, letting his lips ghost over the boy's for a second.

"Go," he whispers and Jack is bolting up the stairs quickly, silently.

Fontaine takes a moment to calm down and makes the call to his source. As anticipated, nothing has changed. Ryan has planned for his security force to raid Fontaine Fisheries on the 12th.

Everything is in place. Fontaine will fake his own death, be taken to Medical, and a doctor he's paid off will do reconstructive surgery and he'll assume the mantle of Atlas.

He's already got the right people, the influential people in the working masses, chattering about a relative newcomer named Atlas, a fisherman that will fight for the rights of the lower class in Rapture, protect the innocent, put a stop to Ryan's tyranny etc., etc. And by his own means, he'll put an end to Ryan, cash out and head topside.

Jack hasn't figured into his plans thus far, but that's only fair considering Jack used to be the killer in the plan. He wouldn't have Jack sully his hands with Ryan's blood now even if it meant squeezing every possible cent out of Rapture. He supposes maybe he can kidnap Jack at some point, but he'll have to know where Jack's staying, so he'll have to arrange a safehouse of sorts.

Tenenbaum, in that case, seems like the best bet. She'll keep Jack under lock and key and not allow him much freedom. Suchong's far too busy with the conditioning of the little sisters to be of any use in that respect, and, loathe as he is to admit it, those two and the boy are the only beings he trusts. He does a lot of business with Sinclair, but he's not as trustworthy. He'd likely sell Jack to the highest bidder the first chance he got, and objectively, Fontaine doesn't blame him one bit. Then, there's Gil Alexander, who is a trustworthy sort, but a bit too softhearted, likely to let Jack wander. That's everyone he can think of, everyone he can trust anyway, so he puts in a call to Tenenbaum and sees to it that she'll come and watch Jack for a bit the night of the raid. He can be honest enough with her to tell her about the raid and she'll be more than understanding.

No one can know that Fontaine is planning to fake his own death, not even Jack.

Especially not Jack.

With everything squared away, Fontaine thinks of what will become of his boy. The kidnapping plan is the most likely, he'd merely have to go to Tenenbaum's apartment and steal the boy back while she is at her office. And even if that should become problematic, Jack's likely to be easy to lure out of hiding long enough to snatch him up.

Now that Frank's had time to think about things, a great weight seems to lift from his shoulders. He has four days to make the boy his in every way, make love to him on every readily available surface in their house, make him sure that Fontaine loves him. And then Fontaine has to die, at least in Jack's eyes. It will rip the kid apart, he knows, but if all goes according to plan, Fontaine will spend the rest of his life making it up to him topside, waist-deep in greenbacks.

The plan can't be disturbed.

For the sake of Jack's safety, for the sake of Fontaine's greed, the plan can't fail. It's bad enough that he's putting Jack before his own well-being, but he feels that even that can be remedied by everything going to plan. He always gets nervous before a con, it's probably just the pressure making him think like this.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read thus far! My updates should be coming a little more regularly, I'm sorry about the delay. Also, this chapter is looking to be solely smut, not much plot to be found. **

Fontaine has run out of excuses to stay downstairs, but he's calmed down remarkably, and that's the important thing. He wants to show Jack what it's like, what sex _should_ be like, before he's rough on him. But he's shaking with want, despite his inner calm. As he climbs the stairs, he requires the aid of the bannister to push himself along, his breathing shallow.

He hasn't been this excited since the first time he screwed someone topside. Margie Willis, in the backseat of his car. He was seventeen at the time, and he remembers how his hands shook on her hips, how he gasped, how he was almost certain it was a terrible time for her and he didn't really care. This time was going to be different.

He opens the door to his room and finds Jack sitting there, socks and shoes removed, but otherwise still completely dressed and still hard.

"Jack, thank you for waiting," Fontaine says, unbuttoning his suit jacket and setting it aside. Jack nodded shortly, his face red.

"Pa- I... what do I call you now?" Jack asks, scooting to the to the side so that Fontaine can remove his socks and shoes as well.

As far as Jack knew (and this was technically the truth), he was born purely from stem cell experimentation. He didn't know who his real mother or real father were, and it would stay that way so long as Fontaine had a hand in things. Their relationship was... complicated, though. Fontaine had fought his pity for the kid, but Jack was so sweet and innocent. And Jack grew up fast and Fontaine fell hard. Jack called him Papa Fontaine, or sir. It was their last means to keep up the facade that was no longer necessary.

"You can call me Frank, I guess, kid," Fontaine shrugs, "Though I think we'll still need to keep up appearances in front of everyone else."

Jack nods and ducks his head, blushing.

Fontaine smiles at him and catches his chin, tilting it up so Jack would look him in the eye "You've got to act grown up about this, Jack," Fontaine purrs, "I don't want you unwilling. If you want something of me, I want you to be able to look me in the eye and tell me what it is."

"I want you to kiss me," Jack grins shyly, and Fontaine complies, touching his lips to Jack's slowly, sweetly, hands gently cupping the back of Jack's head, carding through his hair. A moment later, they part for air, and Jack looks amazed.

"Undress me?" Jack whispers and Fontaine smiles down at him, kissing him again and guiding him to lay down on the mattress. He unbuttons Jack's shirt and pants, slowly removing both while only parting the kiss when it was absolutely necessary.

At last, he removes Jack's underwear and leans back, looking at Jack's body appreciatively. He's a genetic marvel, skin slightly browned despite their underwater dwelling, thighs and chest well muscled, shoulders broad. His chest heaves with the rapid breaths that seemed to come with his arousal, sitting against his stomach, red and leaking at the head.

"You're beautiful," Fontaine tells Jack. He'd learned long ago that this was proper ettiquite for bedding someone, to make them feel appreciated and relax. But for once, or at least the first time in Fontaine's memory, he was being completely sincere.

"You..." Jack gestures at him, "Take off your clothes, I want to see you."

Fontaine cocks an eyebrow at him.

"Please?" Jack adds, running his hands slowly, up and down his thighs, "I want to touch you. I want to see you."

Fontaine begins loosening his tie, discards it, starts on the buttons of his shirt. Slowly. Then pulls his suspenders from his shoulders, unbuttoning his pants. He slides the shirt off first, then his pants, letting both fall about his ankles. Jack gasps, which is unexpectedly gratifying, and Fontaine lies back down beside him. They are both on their sides, kissing and touching, gentle, tenative.

Fontaine's hand ghosts over Jack's ass and Jack sort of _groans _and something in Fontaine snaps. He rolls over on top of Jack and begins kissing him more fiercely, rolling his hips down onto the boy's, still maintaining some semblance of control. He breaks away from Jack's mouth and begins to kiss a line down from his mouth to his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his navel (where Fontaine's tongue dips down a moment, quickening Jack's breath even more), and further, nosing his way through a tangle of brown curls, before reaching the base of Jack's throbbing cock. He licks it and gives it a gentle sqeeze, and strokes. Jack's hips come off the bed as he pushes up into the touch.

"P-please," Jack stutters, "Please, F-f-Frank."

"You sure you know what you're asking for, kid?" Fontaine pants up at him.

"Put me in your mouth," Jack whispers reverently, and so Fontaine does. Just the tip at first, but Jack is already coming undone, gasping loudly, thrusting up, hands clutching at the sheet beneath him. He tenses, but Fontaine extracts himself before Jack can experience release, and he whines, missing the hot, wet friction.

"Wanna fuck you, kid. You want me to...? I'll stop, I'll stop if you don't."

Jack surprises Fontaine by grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back up, so they're face to face (the kid really is stronger than he looks). And Jack kisses him, humming sweetly into it, before pulling back. "I want you inside me," he whispers, equally sweet, and Fontaine splutters.

"Y-yeah? You want me? You want me," Fontaine affirms to himself, feeling like a teenager again.

"Yes," Jack purrs, growing bolder, "I want you to fuck me, Frank, like no one else has. And no one else ever will. I'm all yours, I want you to so much. Please, do it."

Fontaine groans and reaches for the bedside table, withdrawing some lubricant, which he liberally coats three of his fingers with. "Just relax, baby. The more relaxed you are, the easier it will go."

And with that, he eases a finger in.

"Oh," Jack cries, wincing.

Fontaine sighs, reluctant to do what he has to do, but seeing no other option, he says, "Would you kindly relax, kid? Breathe."

And with that, Jack kind of melts, losening around the intrusion, until he is red-faced, panting for more. Fontaine adds another finger, and momentarily, another. Finding Jack stretched well enough, he coats himself with the lubricant as well and leans over, kissing Jack deeply as he slowly eases himself in.

Jack pants so hard that, deep in the back of his mind, Fontaine begins to feel bad for this, but he pushes it aside. Jack had said he wanted it, in pretty explicit terms at that. But it didn't seem to matter any more, as Jack trimbles and breaks the kiss. "Oh, God...move..." he pants.

Fontaine stares down at him amazed, "I...yeah, kid, I'm gonna...fuck, Jack," he babbles as he begins to slowly move in and out of him. Jack stares up, flushed, practically worshipful as his chest heaves at a seemingly impossible rate.

"That's it," Jack gasps, finally, "Talk to me, Frank."

"Oh," Fontaine gasps back, looking down, seeing the mischeif in the boy's eyes, "Yeah, okay Jack. You belong to me now."

"Always have," Jack replies, breathless, "You saved me, you're my hero. Love you so much."

"I'm the only person," Fontaine affirms, despite the guilt in the back of his mind supplying _anything but a hero, made you this way, made you just for me, wanted you to scream my name someday,_ "The only person you want like this, filling you, making you feel this way."

"_Yes,_" Jack nods, "Make me feel...so...so good, so good."

"Gonna make you come, gonna fill you up, Jack... baby," Fontaine grunts, grabbing Jack's hips and setting a slightly harder, faster pace.

"You don't know how long I've wanted...oh, god, since the first time I saw you, I just wanted you to look at me like this, wanted your hands on me, wanted you to love me," Jack confesses, turning even redder.

"You're the only person I let close enough to..." Fontaine says, amazed, "I love you, Jack, more than I've ever loved anything."

Frank Fontaine realizes, as he says this, that it is true. And he is more disgusted with himself than he has ever been. But he also wants to see the boy's face as he comes, the reverent, worshipful, lustful look in his eyes, only for Fontaine. So he quickens his pace even further, wrapping one hand around Jack's length.

It doesn't take longer than a few minutes for Jack to cry out, his head tilted back, his mouth open in a loud, wanton cry, as he shoots his seed, warm and sticky between their chests.

"Come," he whispers to Fontaine, licking the shell of his ear, and Fontaine comes undone, gripping the sheets on either side of Jack's head, the boy's hands resting gently on his hips, tightening once he's fully inside.

Jack's eyes are closed, and he whispers, "So warm inside."

Fontaine collapes on top of him, delivering short, sweet pecks, all over his face.

"I love you," Jack whispers.

_I'm the only thing you know, the only thing you __**can **__love, _the darker part of Fontaine's mind supplies, _and it better fucking stay that way. You are mine. Anyone else so much as touches you, and I'll kill them._

Fontaine yawns and whispers back, "I love you, too."


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Suchong storms into Fontaine's office, furious.

"Suchong thought you'd stoop so low, but for some reason, Suchong _still _can't believe his eyes."

Fontaine rolls his eyes, "What the hell are you talking about, Yi?"

"Don't _take _tone with- the damn boy has been _limping _about the surgical compound all damn day, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. Don't play stupid, Fontaine, we both know you fucked the boy."

There is a pause, where Fontaine's gaze grows cold and he finally says, flatly, "Close the door and we'll talk, doctor."

Suchong obliges, sneering at the man.

"Have a seat," Fontaine suggests, gingerly. Suchong does, and Fontaine removes a pistol from the top drawer and setting it on the top of his desk casually, never breaking eye contact with the Oriental man.

"Jack is _mine,_" Fontaine says, managing to growl and look calm all at once somehow, "You know that. I paid for him-"

"You paid," Suchong snarls, "For an agent to use against Ryan. Not a sex slave."

"I assure you, Jack is a more than willing participant in our...activities, but regardless, I paid for him with my own money, so what I do with a purchased good is my own goddamn business, is it not?"

Suchong just stares at him.

"Now," Fontaine says, "If you don't like that, feel free to seek employment elsewhere, though I find the concept of Ryan you paying the same salary I do laughable. But if I hear so much as a whisper that other people know about Jack, I will make sure you are humiliated, your name dragged through the mud, all your findings deemed either worthless or stolen, and then I will make sure you die a slow, horrible death. I don't have to tell you that cash is king in Rapture, and the way things are going, it wouldn't take much to find a man willing to kill you for six figures. Understood?"

Suchong looks disguisted, but he nods.

"Why suddenly so moral, then, Suchong?"

"Suchong knew you wanted the boy, Fontaine. Suchong has _always _known. But what is disgusting is your lack of control, letting your emotions get the better of you, letting them cloud your judgement as opposed to going through with the goddamn plan you made up in the first place."

"You thought I was raping Jack." Fontaine points out, "And that _bothered _you. Why?"

"The city Suchong lived in as a boy was constantly under attack, I've seen much death, which makes it difficult to fear. But Suchong has seen far worse things than death, and that," Suchong still looks unhappy, "Is one of them. You had...good intentions," Suchong spits out like feeling kind is a weakness, "But you were blinded, so you might've thought you were doing a good thing when, in reality, you were breaking the boy. You don't want a mentally unstable child on your hands, do you?"

"Good point," Fontaine conceeds reluctantly, "But again, I'll remind you that Jack is more than willing, and it'd probably behoove you to stay out of my personal affairs."

"Yes sir," Suchong says, rising from the chair and booking it out of Fontaine's office.


End file.
